


clipped wings grow back

by glythandra



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Resurrection, Short, Spoilers, light widomauk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-17 06:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glythandra/pseuds/glythandra
Summary: very few people can be born twice.even fewer are born three times.but one must remember that everyone ever born always dies.it is bad luck to kill a mollymawk.





	clipped wings grow back

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this in the weeks after episode 26 to cope. finished it up recently but i was too tired to put more effort in to clean it up so its still a mess.  
> find me on tumbr @ glythandra

Of course Cree had followed them. Of course she had. Lucien was back, after all, after two years, after death itself he was back. Of course she had followed them.  
And something was wrong with him, she knew it. Whether the ritual did something to him or he had simply changed in the two years since she didn't know. But something was wrong, and he wasn't himself.  
He was working with these fools, for instance. These fools who had gotten themselves into too much trouble and had now gotten half of them kidnapped. And one of them dead. The only one she cared about.  
It took all she could not to charge in as soon as Nonagon fell. But she felt that he could take care of himself. He would handle himself, or at least his new compatriots would. He trusted them enough to travel and fight alongside him, so she in turn trusted them to take care of him. And that trust was quickly lost.  
The glaive sunk deep into his chest, far too deep, and blood poured out of his mouth. It took so much more not to run in. She frantically cast spells from within her brush, healing word after word until her sobbs choked her voice and her tears flooded her vision. And there was nothing she could do, nothing from this distance. And she couldn't rush out yet, she mustn't rush out or they'd get her too. They'd kill her.  
And the dwarf who led them there offered sacrifice. And Lorenzo refused, he refused that final shred of dignity, and he left. And there were only four standing. And one lying dead.  
And one in a bush.  
The moment Lorenzo was out of sight she ran out, not bothering to hide from the others any more. She ran out and she grabbed his shoulders and lifted him up and shook him until the wizard pulled her away. She tore free of his arms only to be grabbed by the monk, wrapped in a sick hug.  
"Let me see him!" She yelled. "I can fix it, I can fix it, just let me at him!"  
"He is not the man you think he is!" the wizard shouted.  
"He's our friend, he isn't your fucking friend." the monk whispered in her ear, still holding tight.  
"Let me help him!" Cree hissed in finality, clawing her way out of the monk's grip and toward Lucien.  
His eyes were open. He was still and frozen but his eyes were open, still staring above in an echo of fury that sunk into acceptance.  
This wasn't supposed to happen.  
This wasn't supposed to happen again.  
She tore out her earrings, ripping through the skin but not bothering to care. "Wizard!" she shouted, beckoning him over. He trudged over solemnly, numbly. She held out her hand with her diamond earrings and he summoned his own, placing it in the palm of her hand. She closed it in a fist, her magic crumbling the jewels to dust as she muttered an incantation.  
"Lucien." she whispered, rubbing the dust into his cheek and caressing her thumb over his skin. His cold, tense skin. "Nonagon. Mollymauk. Whatever you wish to be called now." she ran the remainder of the dust through his hair, slicked with the blood he spit in his final moments. "Return to us, please. You have done it before. Please, Lucien, not now, not after I only just found you again." she dissolved into sobs, still petting his hair. "Even for only a moment, please, Lucien, please come back."

And he breathes. The torn chest mends itself, skin rippling to cover blood and bone as it weaves itself back together under the moonlight. And he breathes, eyes still open, still not seeing yet, like a newborn baby, he breathes and his heart beats under his fixed skin. He blinks, and he sits up, wincing. His hand travels to his head, passing over his torso and pausing slightly as the now closed wound, and he brings his hand to his face, closing his eyes and sighing.  
"Mollymauk," Caleb breathes, frozen still.  
And he laughs. Mollymauk laughs as he brings his other hand to his face, and he pushes his bloody hair out of his eyes and wipes his own blood from his chin. And he's laughing, he's unable to stop laughing, just at the insanity of this all.  
"Mister Mollymauk," Caleb says again, stumbling forward, his hand unconsciously reaching out to meet Molly's on his face. "Mollymauk how are you feeling?"  
A tear rolls down each of their cheeks, simultaneously. Molly grasps Caleb's hand over his own and moves it to cover his whole face, fingers sprawling over his eyes, thumb over his cheek and palm resting over his mouth as he speaks.  
"Empty."


End file.
